Pork soda

Ruìsāng was the reigning champion of making a statement on a shoestring budget. A testament that charisma knew no price tag. Today, he sported snug black jeans paired with a button-up shirt in deep burgundy, sleeves casually rolled just below the elbows. Over this, he wore a black leather jacket, sleeves pushed up to reveal one bare arm and another wrapped in bandages. His platinum-blond hair was haphazardly bundled into a messy ponytail, clearly done just minutes ago.

But today, he hadn’t dressed up for his friend. No, dear Arceus, not at all. Ending his boring date early had left him with a free afternoon, so he decided to grace his friend’s doorstep instead, bearing a peace offering in the form of a vodka bottle. It was Friday, after all, a night meant for… well, fun.

With a bit of effort, juggling his phone with his lone free hand, he fired off a quick message before raising the vodka bottle theatrically, capturing the moment in a snapshot. He sent the image Alastor’s way.

Ruìsāng chuckled at his friend's eloquent response, then pocketed his phone and absent-mindedly picked at the bandages around his right hand while pressing the bottle between his arm and ribs. Those bandages had been bothering him for a while, but he couldn’t risk showing up at work with a bruised knuckle and teeth marks on his wrist. So, he would have to endure it a little longer.

His gaze lifted slowly when Alastor arrived. Ah, he hadn’t been home. Of course not. When asked if he had been bored or if something happened, Ruìsāng let out a sigh. “Bad date. So definitely bored,” he nodded. It was easy to spend time with his friend. At least that way he had a solid reason not to go home.

Alastor unlocked the door, and Ruìsāng followed him inside, as if he lived there too. When the man mentioned having half a bottle left, Ruìsāng shrugged nonchalantly. “Never too many bottles,” he nodded, his eyes glancing over the label of the bottle in his hand. It was some dark rum he hadn’t yet had the chance to try.

Following Alastor’s lead, he kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket before making his way to the kitchen. Ruìsāng placed the bottle he had been carrying on the kitchen counter.

“I’m good, thanks,” he declined when offered something to eat, his tone polite but uninterested. Despite the earlier unfortunate ending, the only highlight of his date had been the food. His focus shifted back to his friend. “So, what have you been up to lately? Fill me in on all the horny details,” he said, half-jokingly, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. One day, he was convinced, his friend would have some interesting stories to share. But today might not be that day.

Considering the numerous dates Ruìsāng had been on, most would be surprised to hear that he had never been in a relationship. It wasn't a conscious choice he made; it was just the way it had to be. He could only imagine trying to hide everything from someone who stuck their nose up his business, or trying to come up with excuses as to why he didn’t want someone else to visit his home. The very idea made him anxious, and he knew he'd run a mile if anyone ever dared to get that close.

As a result, his dates remained shallow, and at the first hint of a potential emotional connection, he'd vanish without a trace. It was a simple solution, even if it meant he often found himself stuck in terrible, boring encounters.

“You do know— Never mind,” Ruìsāng sighed in exasperation as Alastor started his infamous Meal á la Alas. Convincing the other to enjoy a proper meal was an impossible task, despite Ruìsāng losing a bit of his soul every time he witnessed Alastor devouring those concoctions. How anyone could call that food was beyond him.

Curiosity piqued, Ruìsāng asked about Alastor's recent activities. Writing a new song, a few dates, almost getting eaten by a spider, and a collaboration—wait— “What?” Ruìsāng's eyes widened in disbelief. Why had Alastor simply walked away like he hadn't just dropped a bombshell? Ruìsāng hurried after his friend, clutching his bottle like a lifeline.

When Alastor showed him the creature, Ruìsāng's expression twisted into one of sheer horror. He instinctively took a step back, nearly losing his balance along with his precious bottle. “Why—” hhe started, holding one hand protectively in front of himself, keeping a safe distance from the spider. Disgusting.  “Did you— Did you steal this from its mother?” Ruìsāng asked, desperately, hoping that wasn’t the case. He had a feeling mother spiders wouldn’t forgive him for that. Didn’t they even eat the male spiders??? What if it’d truly eat Alastor? What would he do then?

Many would wonder why Ruìsāng and Alastor got along so well. Surface-level observations painted them as complete opposites, a fact Ruìsāng was reminded of only when he shot a look at the can of monster energy—his face contorted in disdain. He preferred real food and quality beverages, not the chemical waste fueling Alastor's existence.

Ruìsāng expressed his opinion about the spider and Alastor seemed unbothered, as per usual. Alastor, nonchalant as ever, explained that the larger spider looked nothing like his smaller “buddy”. When he described the arachnid as yellow and big, Ruìsāng couldn’t help but wonder how Alastor had survived with such a lack of basic survival instincts.

“You’re serious?” Ruìsāng asked, incredulous yet amused as Alastor continued to talk about his fucking little buddy. “Keep it away from me and we’re good,” he added with a dramatic eye roll. Pulling out his phone, Ruìsāng swiftly googled ‘yellow spider evolution’ (he might know Pokémon, but he wasn’t a walking Pokédex, thank you) and presented the image to Alastor with a furrowed brow. “Was this the spider? Because, seriously, Alastor, if you get eaten and die before me, I’ll throw a fit at your funeral.”